The Child Soldiers

The scars of war are worn with scorn By those who propagate the pain And leave the flesh all flayed and torn As blood is washed away with rain. No way to count the thousands dead, All victims of gross vanity. They fell to monsters born and bred Who thrive in their perversity. They slaughter sons and daughters all And find great pleasure in the kill As populations quickly fall; Their lust for blood is never still. To force a child to kill his own Is part of their horrific game; These children lost and so alone Until they lose all sense of shame. And is the world still unaware Of this insane reality? Or has it lost its soul somewhere That's blind to such brutality? It seems the world will be at war Until that final burst of light When God adds up the final score Of every soul lost to the night. And somewhere in the Universe Another world will then begin. Will life again become perverse And drown the children in its sin?